Good Girl, Bad Boy
by Rawritz
Summary: Entirely filled with fluffy Ayushiki drabbles and oneshots for the Corpse Party AU Fest. Lemon on chapter 9.
1. Coffee Shop

Bells chimed as she set foot in the store. The atmosphere felt friendly, customers communing with each other like a pack. As she walked to the counter, she took a deep whiff of her exquisite surrounding aromas. Heh, she could get used to this, smelling coffee all the time.

Once arriving the cash register, a youthful employee vaulted out of her line of vision. A signature show-smile sprouted from her lips, she bellowed, "Hi! What would you like to order?"

Ayumi returned a warm smile, revealing documents to plain sight. "Sorry, I'm not ordering anything. I applied for casual work a few weeks ago, and I'm here to finally start."

"Oh!" The girl cast her eyes down, covering her face with her hand, gnawing on her lip. Was she blushing? There was no reason to be embarrassed. She brought her gaze back to hers. "My apologies… So you're the new girl? Nice to meet you. Just wait here for a second."

Watching her departing figure, she couldn't help but release a tiny squeak. Holding in her excitement was far too difficult. This was her first job, and she may have even become friends with this girl. Adoration escalated in her chest. She had seemed so bubbly and cute.

The employee returned, followed by someone dressed in a similar uniform. He looked to be at least seventeen, maybe eighteen. For some reason, he looked quite familiar. His crude eyes locked on her like a hawk as he came closer.

"Ayumi, right?" asked the girl.

She nodded, beginning to get cold vibes from the boy. It finally clicked in her mind, she recognized him from school. They hadn't met, but he often got into calamities with the teachers and other students, or so she had heard. She didn't like to judge others based on rumours, so she decided to push the thought aside.

Bubbly girl gestured to him. "This is Yoshiki, he'll be your mentor. I'd like to stay longer but I'm afraid I have to return to my station. Good luck!"

After she left, Ayumi turned and met his stare. Chills ran down her back. She felt small. Almost as if he was judging her every move with those steel eyes.

"Follow me," was the first words he said.

They ended up in the kitchen. She would have liked to make some kind of conversation to ease her mind, hopefully lightening the mood, but it felt inappropriate. He seemed like a serious person. It would be better to follow the whole quiet and obedient path, so she could learn as much as possible.

"Listen carefully," he spoke up, resting his palm on the counter. "You will stand beside this sink, and every single mug or saucer that comes into sight — you wash. Set them on the drying rack. When it's full, you place it in that heating machine over there, and you grab a new one. Repeat. Do you understand?"

She swallowed, nodding timidly. This wasn't what she had expected from working at a coffee shop, but she had no desire to complain.

"Good." He made his way to the door. "I do not tolerate slackers, so keep that in mind."

It was fairly quiet for a while, which she found pretty boring. That was until other workers piled into the kitchen, balancing dishes upon dishes in their arms like some kind of stage performers. They rapidly stacked them next to her at what seemed like an inhumane speed, and darted out the door in the blink of an eye. She stood frozen, dumbfounded for a split of a second before getting to work.

Panic filled her system. This was physically impossible! What a lucky break she had when it was empty merely seconds ago. The plates arrived faster than she could scrub, and she became deathly afraid of not being up to standards.

"What is this?"

She jumped, nearly dropping the cup in her hand. Yoshiki was right behind her. "U-Uhm… What's the problem?"

A frown arose on his features. "You're letting the dishes stack up too much. Wash them faster. And also…" He stepped up to the drying rack, running his finger over the surface of a plate. "You're not doing it right, there's still some left. Don't disappoint me, Ayumi."

Her mouth popped open in shock. He was really harsh! Did that mean she had to redo all the ones she had already washed? Tears pricked at the rim of her eyes. No, she couldn't give up. "Sorry. I'll try harder."

"You better." He left again.

Oh, she would. She was going to show him, prove to that sour man that she wasn't a slacker. She'd teach him a lesson on how not to be such a bitter person. She looked down at the soapy water, the bubbles drifting on top — and then, ripples. Her arm was put into full-action mode, focusing all her energy on getting into the tiniest nooks and crannies. Powerful, quick scrubs. That's right, she'd show him what she was made of.

Cramps were appearing in her hands, but she didn't let that stop her. Passion lit in her eyes, burning with concentration. Next one, and then the next. Place it in the heater, grab another rack. It was a cycle, one that sped up and up, getting more accurate in numbers.

She reached her hand over for the next — but there were none. Her eyebrows rose, and she blinked in disbelief. She had done it. Suddenly, there was a tap on her shoulder. She flinched, and then pivoted her head to see Yoshiki. "…Well? What do you think?"

His eyes flickered over the empty sink area. "Gotta say, I'm surprised. You really stepped up your game."

Then she saw it, a smile. It shocked her systems. Did he even have the ability to smile? Pleasure ran through her veins as she grinned at him.

He studied her with a blank expression for a moment before tentatively raising his hand to pat her head. Her hair was soft. "Good job," he said as he retracted his arm.

For some reason, she felt herself blush, having unexpected his gesture completely. The guy was always full of surprises. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. "Thank you."

"But I expect more of it." He backed away with a devious look in his eyes before leaving through the door. "Don't get your hopes up."

She held her head in her hands, attempting to cool down the blaze in her cheeks. What an interesting, sly asshole. She couldn't wait to see more of him.


	2. Pizza Delivery

Thursday nights were lazy nights. It was the only day of the week when her mother and sister had afternoon shifts, leaving her father responsible for dinner — meaning they ordered grease-splayed delicious circles of happiness and cheese. The Shinozaki tradition. Pizza wasn't her favourite meal, but it was high up there. This was one day that she allowed herself to splurge on carbs, her cheat day.

Digested in the dense pages of her favourite book, Ayumi sat on the taupe carpet in her living room. All of a sudden, the doorbell rang. Stomach grumbling, she raced to the front door.

"Yoshiki?" She blurted, holding the door open with incredulity. The sight was almost hard to believe. Trademark snapback, red and white uniform, stacks of pizza boxes in hand. He was your average delivery boy. Never in her life would she have thought him, well-known troublemaker at school, the boy often found sleeping at the back of her classroom, to be standing at her doorstep.

Staring back with equal surprise, he stood with his jaw slackened. "A-Ayumi? You live here?"

It really was him. Laughter erupted from her mouth, unable to contain it any longer. Her aspect of him was this misbehaving, foul-mouthed punk that took shit from nobody; she found it ironic that in actuality, he was a teenager alike everyone else, engaging in belittling part-time jobs such as delivering fast food to lazy individuals. How he stood before her, clutching onto steaming hot cases of _her_ dinner, made him look… exposed, even vulnerable.

"H-Hey! Don't laugh," he scrunched up his face, discomposed.

Heaving the air out of her lungs, she rested her hands on her knees before standing straight and wiping away a non-existent tear. "Sorry, sorry. I can't help it. I never expected to see you like… this."

He narrowed his eyes, jutting his lip. "You do realise that your meal is in my hands. I wouldn't be teasing someone like that."

"I haven't even paid yet!" Her eyes widened, had she finally caught her breath. "Wouldn't you lose your job or something?"

A gravely groan left his lips as he ran a hand down his face. "I don't really care at this point. And you better not tell anyone at school."

"Oh?" She smirked, a mischievous sparkle appearing in her eyes. "And if I did?"

"You wouldn't," he muttered through his teeth, wide eyed, obviously stirred.

Leaning on her doorframe, arms folded, she taunted, "But how would I benefit from that?"

He released a heavy sigh. There was no way to get out of this. "Fine. What do you want?"

Tapping a finger on her lip, she pondered on a suitable deal, or more so punishment. It was strangely thrilling to have power over him. Being the one in control. His reactions were definitely out of character, and honestly cute. "I want you to do me a favour for the cultural festival. Don't worry, it's a small favour."

"That's all?" He scoffed, cracking his mouth open to smirk.

Pfft, he was wrong to underestimate her. She faked a sweet smile. "Yup! Oh, and here's the money for the pizza."

After exchanging precious goods, he left with his palm pressed against his face. Watching him drive away, she couldn't hide her grin. This was going to be fun. There was no way she would tell anybody his secret, but it was amusing to play around with his emotions. It interested her, to say the least.

* * *

**A few weeks later…**

"You look adorable!" Squealed Mayu.

Seiko caressed her chin, squinting her eyes at him. "It's a nice fit."

Satoshi smacked a hand on the shoulder of his best friend, who boldly volunteered to dress up in a maid costume to gain more attention for their restaurant in the cultural festival. He took one for the team. Truthfully speaking, he looked ridiculous in his alarmingly short skirt and hand-sewn apron, with frills adorning his outfit at every angle. It did not suit his personality at all. Who knows what triggered him to do it. "You're a brave man, Yoshiki!"

Said person twitched his eye, grasping the hem of his skirt in attempt to hold it down. Stupid thing. He glared at the blue-haired class representative in the corner, who was eyeing him with a shrewd look on her face. What a bitch. She better keep her side of the promise, otherwise he would have embarrassed himself for nothing. Frustrated, he grumbled, "Damnit AYYYUUUUUMMMMMIIIIII!"


	3. Post-Apocalyptic

Yoshiki observed his surroundings. Towering trees, overgrown bush, and nobody in sight. The sun peeked through blind patches in the branches. There was little time before it set. Nothing could be heard but hummingbirds and the leaves crunching beneath his feet. As he guided his way through the forest, he hunched over, wary of unwanted acquaintances. Need be, he had his reliable knife sitting in the back pocket. There weren't many occasions where he needed it, but it was always handy to be prepared. If luck were on his side, he'd come across a fatted stag. That would be enough to feed him for a month at the very least. Unfortunately, he had exhausted his gracious karma, and there were little options left. One week of scavenging bandit camps was enough. His mind was set on a riskier, more rewarding route — and that was stealing from the nearest village.

It wasn't the most pleasant thought. He had valid reasons for refusing to return to his native village, the biggest one probably being his lazy excuses for parents. They never did like his attitude very much, and made unreasonable propositions to 'fix it'. Needless to say, it didn't work. Well, it wasn't surprising when they never cared to figure the reason. They approached the situation as a mistake, that he was clearly doing something wrong, something that had to be mended by accusations and lectures, when in actuality, they never tried to see it as a result of something else, an aftereffect. He didn't bother to reveal it, convinced that it wouldn't change their ignorant minds. And somewhere aside the stress and vexation in his mind, he was glad he didn't. Maybe he was better off on his own, seemed like it anyway.

Although travelling solo was his preference, he felt depressed just knowing he didn't belong anywhere. What he should call 'home' was a place that reminded him of his neglected farewell. And in this day and age, food and supplies were scare, meaning the average village was so strong and family-orientated that strangers were unwelcome, often killed on sight. He was unwanted and untrusted, and sadly enough, he didn't blame anyone.

He knew what he was doing was beyond dangerous, but it didn't faze him at this point. Well equipped to defend himself, he was confident he could at least escape when worst comes to worst. The cravings were ignorable at first, but it started to blast through his mind recurrently, making it near unbearable. Meat. That's what he wanted. Juicy flesh to rip his teeth through. He was sick of scanty meals that were unsuccessful at satiating his stomach. It made him crazy enough to consider this whole operation.

He kneeled down and pressed his ear to the ground, a practical hunting trick. A smirk shaped on his face as he continued to sneak through the forest. Something was nearby. He was nearly there. Wiping traces of sweat from his forehead, he was startled when he felt a firm object barge into his shoulder at full force. Pain shot through his head as the force smacked him against what he recognized as a tree. Fuck. His sight became impaired, a spinning sensation running through his skull. When his vision was clear enough to identify the situation, a glistening blade pressed against his cheek.

"Any final words?" muttered the attacker. His face was cloaked in a dark balaclava, uncovering narrowed, overcast eyes. He dressed in tattered, grimy clothes.

A bandit, he guessed, presumably just as desperate as himself. Although, he did not expect to be assaulted like that. Maybe the lack of nutrients was finally getting to his head, probably the cause of his prolonged dizziness too. No matter. In a swift movement, he pushed the foe's knife out of hand and twisted his arm behind his back, quenching in the expected yells of agony. The bandit was stronger than he thought, throwing him off and pinning him to the ground. A cuss fell from his lips. He strained to heave the attacker off, but he was too heavy.

He felt a blow to the top of his head, causing him to throatily shout. His brain pulsated in immense pain as he gradually lost consciousness.

* * *

Cantering through the trees, Ayumi squealed in delight. Father finally allowed her to take Gemstone for a ride after all her nagging. He kept stressing the fact that there were too many 'dangers' out there, but in all her life, she had never come across any of them. The most dangerous thing she saw in the forest was a rabbit, which tasted delicious by the way. It was her first kill. She remembered the thrill of finding her arrow pierced through its fur. Heh, and he didn't believe she could protect herself.

Out of nowhere, Gemstone rattled her head. It didn't happen often. She gently patted her warm neck and murmured, "What's wrong, Gem? What is it?"

The horse slowed down to a stop, and Ayumi couldn't believe her eyes. Among the fallen foliage laid an injured man. He didn't seem to be moving, and the blood coating his head was traumatic. She thought about turning back, finding help and responsible adults, but she was fearful that leaving him here would lead to his death. Biting her lip, she delicately hopped off her ride and lumbered closer. Her voice was soft. "Hello?"

No response. Getting a closer look, she noticed a prominent lump at the brim of his golden hair that trickled with crimson. He needed medical assistance, like, right now. She spoke again, this time louder, and as expected there was no answer. Unconscious was the word, right? She slowly extended her arm and squeezed his shoulder. Yep, he was out cold. Glancing between the man and her horse, she heaved a sigh and got to work.

* * *

Was he dead? No, the incessant pang in his head was all too real. The feeling was very strange. He couldn't still be lying in the forest because he was certain he heard the crackling of a fire. Also, his body felt oddly warm. Was it… a blanket? He popped his eyes open, straining as the light weakened his perception. There was a campfire close by, and it looked like he was in some kind of large hut. And straw… straw everywhere. He heard a shuffle behind him.

"You're finally awake."

He shot his head around, which was a bad mistake because a scream of anguish bit through his brain. Fuck, it hurt so much. Squinting his eyelids shut, he grimaced.

The voice uttered again. "Um, you're still recovering, so take it easy."

"Where am I?" he grumbled.

"Don't worry." A feminine tone, it was most likely a girl, young too. "You're somewhere safe."

The pain had subsided enough for him to open his eyes again. He noticed the girl sitting beside him, quite pretty too. She must be a villager. Bright blue eyes, shiny navy pigtails, petite face. What was she doing here with him? He spotted a roll of tape and a wooden pail by her side. Wait. He reached up and felt a secure bandage around his head. "Did you… did you do this?"

"Yeah…" She shyly looked to the ground.

His mind was fuzzy. "What happened?"

Her eyes shifted to his for a second before turning to the wall. "I don't know exactly. I just found you in the forest and I couldn't leave you there."

"Oh…" So she helped him. He couldn't help but wonder what she was doing out there in the first place, but shook the thought away. "Thanks."

She spun around, fiddling with things behind her, and then faced him with a bowl in hand. "I-I hope you don't mind, but you look like you could use some of it."

He attempted to sit up on his elbows as he looked at the contents. It looked like some kind of soup, with steam rising. The very sight caused his mouth to salivate. He nearly forgot the angry monster in his stomach. Sitting up straight, he took the bowl in his hands and started swallowing mouthfuls. The warm brew eased down his throat, heating his chest. It wasn't long before he finished it.

"You know, I haven't seen you around before." She sheepishly scratched the side of her face.

"Uh…" He debated whether to tell her or not. His kind were normally killed, but since she had just saved his life… "I don't live here. I'm a wanderer."

"I see…" Nodding her head, she then met his gaze, holding it for quite some time. "I promise I won't tell anyone. We're in the stable, so nobody's seen you yet."

"Thank you." His expression relaxed and a gentle smile appeared. He returned the bowl, but quickly clutched his head as another strike of affliction came. She grabbed his hand, a reflex, maybe. Her skin was surprisingly soft as she squeezed, presumably in comfort. He looked up into her eyes. There was no way he would ever forget them; two orbs of calm oceans. Alluring — that was one word to pretty much sum them up.

Whether her action was in comfort or not, the mere touch sent hot sensations throughout his body. He was caught. And for the first time in years, he felt like he belonged.


	4. Bartender

**A/N: A lot of swearing in this one, just a heads up. **

* * *

He had seen it all. Blame the job. From brawls to sick flirts, he had seen his fair share of awful situations. That's what you'd expect as a bartender. Alcohol made people do crazy things. It switched off their self-control, respect, courtesy and emotional barriers. He had come across vomit, spiked drinks, and even blood in the bathroom. Although, nothing could have compared to the sight he had seen one significant Wednesday night.

It was a quiet day. Some blokes were chatting by the pool table, a couple foreigners drinking in the corner. He liked it this way. It was less stressful than the usual nights, where fights often broke out and glass was broken. This way he could relish in washing dishes, thinking about what he would get to eat for dinner when he got home.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and in rushed a hunched girl. Straight away, she sat in a stool beside the counter. Her dark hair was frazzled, eyes bloodshot and puffed. Tearstains were obvious on her cheeks. He hesitantly made his way to her, making a pained expression at her sorrow. "Um, would you like to order a drink?"

She shot her head up, narrowing her eyes at him before softening. "Yes, please."

"Anything you, uh, want in particular?" he asked, chest aching just watching her in such a state. Bluntly speaking, she looked terrible. There was clearly something troubling on her mind. He felt sympathetic towards her, but in the end, he could only do his job.

She spaced out for a moment, centering her gaze on the space behind him, before returning to his actual presence. "Just give me something strong. I want to forget."

He nodded, fixing up a refreshment along the lines of her order. Although, it was a little worrying. She was fairly small. He didn't know, but judging on looks, she didn't appear as a heavy drinker. It seemed somewhat dangerous, but he didn't have the right to say anything when she was visibly upset like that. He slid the beverage to her, keeping a watchful eye on her actions.

Bringing the glass up to her mouth, she took a massive gulp. His eyes nearly popped out of its sockets. Did she want to kill herself? He watched as a grimace developed on her face and she clutched the sides of her head.

"Are you alright?" he half-shouted, leaning over the counter towards her.

"Yeah, yeah." She drooped her head, resting her eyes on her lap for a while. After some time, her body shook, and her voice cracked as she spoke, "No, not really. I'm just… really fuckin' stupid."

"Hey, don't say that." He furrowed his eyebrows, heart practically crying for her. Although it technically wasn't his job — as a part of being a human being, he was genuinely curious as to why she was so unhappy, and wanted to comfort her in any way possible. "You can talk about it if you want. I'm all ears."

She looked up at him, frozen, like she was staring into his soul momentarily, and then shook her head. "No, it's fine. I don't need to bother you with my problems."

"Look around, I really have nothing better to do."

And again, she shook her head. "I'd only bother you."

"Look." He shifted his eyes down. "I don't mean to be rude, but you look like you really need to let some shit out. I only want to help, no funny business."

Her eyes rested on him. She sighed heavily. "Fine, only cause you insist. . . It started last summer. Met this guy, thought he was the nicest thing. We saw each other often, like, a couple times a week. We were always callin', saying sweet shit that makes me wanna barf at the thought of it now. He said I was the most important person in his life, and like the fuckin' dimwit I am, I believed him. Anyway, to cut it short, he started seeing someone else. I had no idea. Found him all up close and personal with that bimbo. Fucks sake."

"…That is fucked up. I'm sorry," he muttered, frowning. Some guys were straight up idiots. Looking at her clearly, she was a gorgeous girl, despite the tears and snot and roughed-up-ness. She had clear skin, prominent cheekbones, and broad blue eyes that he'd just lose himself in. If it were him, he'd treat her better.

"Yeah." She downed the rest of her drink. "Y'wanna know what the most fucked up thing is? She was my childhood friend. I'm pretty sure I was the one who introduced her to him in the first place. Fucking hell. I have never felt so betrayed. Won't be speaking to that bitch anymore."

There was nothing he could do but stare at the beautiful mess before him with pained eyes. He dug into his pocket to find a packet of tissues, and handed it to her. "Here, you probably want this."

"Thanks." She grabbed one and loudly blew her nose, and then used other tissues to wipe the remaining marks and tears from her face. "It was nice of you to listen... um, sorry but what's your name?"

"Yoshiki," he said with a tender smile. She was interesting. Maybe if they had met under normal circumstances, it would be better. But he was glad he got the chance to meet her to begin with. It really made him rethink things. His choices, how they affected others. He wanted to get to know her better, even if was only a little bit.

She returned the gesture. "Cool. I'm Ayumi. You're actually a pretty nice guy. Don't get me wrong; I'm sick of, you know, dating and relationships. But, um, do you want to be friends? If that makes sense. Hah, sorry. Not really in the right mind at the moment."

"Don't worry, it does. And yeah, I'd love to."


	5. College

Yoshiki was a loyal man; true to his friends, always there in times of need, answering phone calls — no problem whether it was 4pm or 4am, texting advice for girl problems, and occasionally, even guy problems.

He genuinely believed his advice wasn't too great, but knew the thought of it mattered — if he had something to give, he would give it. It was only fair. His friends were the ones that kicked his life into gear. Without them, he would be nothing but a rascal. They surrounded his life with smiles and cheerfulness, encouraging him to focus on school and a future. Thanks to them, he was living his future. Unfortunately, so were they.

It was much harder to be loyal once they left. International calls cost extra money, which frankly, he didn't have. College fees sucked the majority of his funds dry. So while he stuck with a visual and performing arts academy, the others flew abroad to pursuit their dreams. It was awfully hard to say goodbye. First, it was Satoshi. Then Naomi. Eventually, one by one, his friends vanished. Sometimes it was painful to accept their disappearances. Sometimes it wasn't. He was shocking at approaching new people, proving it difficult to find others that would tolerate his, um, brusque behaviour. Plus, he couldn't forget his old friends. They had relationships he treasured greater that diamonds. He didn't want to move on.

However, much to his fortune, there was one friend that remained.

He had felt so blessed that maybe, _maybe_ with her, he would survive college. She pretty much was the only person that barked at him to get through high school in the first place, often reminding him to study or even scolding him for not. It was annoying, sure, but she was right. The least he could do was appreciate it, her, and the gods for allowing them to be together. Perhaps it was a sign. Perhaps he should snatch her up before another man did.

Ayumi had her fair share of admirers, which pissed him off. But he did have to admit, whenever they approached her with cocky, over-confident smirks, it was pleasing to watch them walk away with their heads hung low. She complained that she was far too busy concentrating on deadlines to ever consider their feelings. Pathetic enough, he was thankful for that. It gave him all the more hope to continue courting her. Somewhere in the corners of his mind, he thought their history would give him the biggest chance at winning her over, but knew it was merely wishful thinking.

At times, he felt like his admiration was shameful — catching himself unwittingly staring at her in lectures, purposely (and guiltily) walking past her regular routes. She was just too beautiful. Heart and mind, he wanted it all. But he wouldn't allow himself to cross that line, not now. She wasn't ready. He was fearful of risking the connection he so eagerly cherished. It was fine. For now, they were the closest they had ever been, and as long as she wasn't seeing other men, he was content. He could wait. She was worth it, even if it took eternity.

He sat at the desk in his room, revising notes for an upcoming assessment. Buzz. He received a new message on his phone. His eyes widened as he scanned the text, recognizing the sender. Ayumi. He replied almost immediately, saying he would love to hang out. After making himself presentable, he whisked outside to hop in his car. The university grounds were fairly large, designed to keep the sexes separated. It was faster to pick her up by car instead of walking. As he leapt out into the night atmosphere, he released a deep breath, attempting to calm his anxieties.

Putting on a composed front, he ambled into the girl's dormitory and trekked to Ayumi's room like he had countless times before. The door was expectedly open. Inside was her roommate, Azusa, who he knew well enough from his previous visits.

She looked up from the computer in her lap. "Hey Yoshiki. Looking for Ayumi?"

"Yeah," he answered, leaning against the doorframe.

"She's still getting changed," she informed, returning her attention to her laptop.

He scrolled through his phone, anticipating what Ayumi might be wearing. She always chose clothes that suited her. He repeatedly marvelled at her confidence, falling deeper in love the more he saw it.

"You know, she was excited to see you tonight."

He hid the creeping blood in his cheeks by turning to the side. Azusa seemed to have noticed his intentions, being regrettably more observant than Ayumi. Though it was slightly embarrassing, he couldn't deny the fact that he was happy she supported his advances.

A door, which he identified as Ayumi's, opened. She stepped out in an oversized hoodie and dark jeans, hair pulled up in a ponytail. Her eyes widened as they met his. "A-Ah, sorry! Did you wait long?"

"No." He smiled softly, admiring her complexion. Her cheeks were glowing. Did he make her flustered? His heart felt as if it would burst at any second. She was very cute like that; making him want to kiss her on the spot. He swallowed, and managed to calmly say, "Let's go."

After saying goodbye to Azusa, she walked beside him throughout the quiet hallways. It was nice spending time with Yoshiki. He was probably the only high school friend she had left. She was proud of him for taking music courses and planning ahead for his future. Although she had only heard him a couple times when he wasn't looking, she knew he was brilliant. Amazing. He had a relaxing, smooth voice that pleasantly accompanied his talented guitar skills. It was very nice, enough to make her want to listen to it once again.

When she thought about it, her image of him had definitely changed over the years; he was no longer a troublesome delinquent, but more of a grown man. She liked that he was more responsible. She liked a lot more things about him lately. Although, she'd hate to admit it — not wanting to inflate his ego.

"Pfft. Your face looks like a tomato." He gazed down at her with a crooked smile, love and warmth burning in his eyes.

She whacked his arm and covered her reddened face. "Sh-Shut up."

It didn't matter if he spent his time in college chasing her like he did in high school, even if it took him the rest of his life. She gave him a reason to live prosperously. She was his muse. All he really wanted was to be with her, and at that point in time, they were only moving forward.


	6. Actors

Her lips had met many others.

Sweet kisses, long passionate kisses, hot and wet kisses. Name them all; she had probably done it. And no, she wasn't a tramp. They were all staged, before-the-lens kisses. It was her job as an actor.

Most people described their first kiss as magical — oh, sparks flew! They saw stars! They were in heaven! But that wasn't the case for her at all. It was rather ordinary. Uneventful. Her first kiss was planned and written on a script she practiced over and over and over until she perfected mouth-to-mouth contact. She couldn't deny that some of her co-workers were pleasantly handsome, but she never saw them as more than temporary partners. For some reason it'd feel empty. The movements were nice, providing her serene sensations of connection, but it floundered coming from the heart, from emotion. Sure, it was easy to fake passion behind a camera, but the feelings she'd expect to appear in her tummy, or her chest, were absent.

At first, she was reasonably weary about it; the whole act of placing enough trust in a stranger made her feel unsettled, having to physically force herself for the sake of her directors. But as she became more experienced, it could be done with ease. She was desensitized to it.

Yet, sometimes it felt wrong. Knowing it was an intimate deed, she felt like she was shattering the eminence of smooching. But it wasn't like she had a significant other, or would anytime soon. Blaming her work schedule, she literally had no time for dating. It didn't bother her too much. As long as she enjoyed her career, she didn't stress about gaining a boyfriend.

She scanned her script, attempting to refresh her memory before hopping on set. It was fairly quiet backstage, the only sounds coming from her heater. As her stomach grumbled, she skimmed her eyes over the snack table, particularly a punnet of bright strawberries. She wasn't supposed to eat before filming, especially since her makeup was already done, but if her gut started complaining on stage, she'd never hear the end of it. Just one wouldn't hurt. The flavours exploded on her tongue, causing her to shut her eyes in satisfaction. So sweet…

Suddenly, a bell rang. It was time to perform. She hurried on set, a dark alleyway, and met her newest partner. He went by the name of Yoshiki Kishinuma. It sounded slightly familiar, but she had probably just seen some of his work. Her first impression was how sharp his eyes were. There was no doubt they were attractive, but it was slightly intimidating, making her feel inferior. He… was something unlike her other partners. She was cautious of what he would do next, taking on the part of a bad boy seemingly well.

Her role was an innocent high schooler, who mistakenly took a shortcut that led to her assault. The men clearly had dirty intentions and she screamed out for help. Then in came her saviour, who she called Knight, and he smashed the abusers. Although she was supposedly scared of Knight, she couldn't help but feel indebted to him, and allowed him to kiss her.

When it became the make-out scene, she felt anxious. It was probably only acting, but the way Yoshiki looked at her was remarkably intense it almost felt real. Her heart was unusually thumping. It never happened before, so why did it happen now? His calm grey eyes were looking right through her, giving her vibes she never versed before.

By the time he appeared face-to-face, she felt light-headed, helplessly peering into his eyes. So passionate. His hand cradled her cheek, sending jittery sensations to her stomach. Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned in, quickly snatching the surface of her lips. It was hot, so very hot. Her mouth was on fire, and his, well, she couldn't get enough. It was strangely different to her past experiences — there was a spark. He grabbed her waist. Her knees shook. She was nervous of collapsing and threw her arms around his neck for guidance. The way he pushed her further against the wall and heavily claimed her lips gave her enjoyment like no other. And then his tongue showed up, pushing and begging for entrance, which she happily obliged. It delved in, dancing with her own, exploring the regions of her mouth. Her heart drummed against her ribcage. She wanted this. Never before in her life had she felt so turned on from work. He was just so smooth and sexy, pressing her flush against his toned body. It excited her to no end.

When they broke apart, reality dived in: lights, cameras, the director and stage crew staring at them in awe. Her cheeks burned with pure embarrassment, wide eyed. The director stood from his chair, clapping and shouting, "Wonderful! Great! Ayumi, that's the best you've ever done! Great job, Yoshiki!"

She headed backstage, gluing her eyes to the floor. Why was she so disappointed? It wasn't the first time she had kissed someone for her job. Ugh. The fact that it was fake made her… sad. She wanted it to be as real as it felt. It was like a drug — one hit and she desired even more. There was so much confusion in her mind, having never experienced this before, she had no idea what to do about it. Suddenly, there was a tap on her shoulder.

"Hey."

It was his voice — Yoshiki.

"Y-Yeah?" she replied, gawking up at his strong gaze. Her breath hitched in her throat. The sight of him sent tremors down her spine.

He wiped his mouth for a second before revealing a smirk. "You tasted like strawberries."

Her face blazed with fiery emotions. That was right… she ate some earlier. God, this was mortifying. She looked to the side. "Why are you saying this?"

He paused for a moment, turmoil flickering in his eyes. "Don't you remember me?"

And then it all made sense — why he was so familiar, why he looked at her that way, why the passion was so different. It all made sense.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for posting this late. I went out last night and came home extremely fatigued. I couldn't write without blacking out every two seconds. Hope you enjoyed.**


	7. Cannibal

Yoshiki licked the crimson from the length of his blade, huffing a weak chuckle as he eased into the metallic taste. His eyes stood firmly on the man clutching his chest, stains smeared on his business suit. Tch. What a pathetic being, following unsuspecting girls home after school with a flash camera. Oh, how he wanted to paint the walls with his blood. His spine trembled. It was satisfying, watching him suffer, but he needed to hurry up.

Snagging a garbage bag from his pocket, he jerked it in the wind, opening the sack. He then fixed his eyes once again on the injured man and waved the knife before his face. "Ja ne."

A strike for his arms. Another for the legs. Split the torso in half, and hack the neck.

Red expanded in a pool, pouring from the offcuts. The stench of death intensified. His fingertips became sticky as he stuffed the bag and heaved it over his shoulder. He walked away from the scene like a regular man and ducked into his car, leaving his newest 'friend' in the boot. Today was a good day.

Pulling up to his old apartment, he dragged the bag along the ground. There was no use trying to hide it now. It was a reasonably deserted area.

The rooms became darker as he trudged along until he arrived in a large room. There was no furniture, and no need for any. It was glamorous already. Skeletons decorated the floor, chalk and scarlet everywhere. He shuddered as he familiarized her. "Dinner time."

Her eyes split open, the flavour of flesh dry in her mouth. She unfolded from her crouched stance and crawled on all fours to her precious saviour. The intoxicating scent of fresh catch stimulated her nostrils. Her stomach boiled and tossed. So… hungry… Sizzling fluid wept off her chin. Slowly, she stretched her arm out.

He threw the grub in her reach, humming in luxury as his love drooled upon the contents. She pulled out a thigh and licked the excess blood from the sides like sauce. Her eyes lit up with delight.

"Mm… So juicy, god… It's, oh… so good."

She sunk her teeth into the delicate meat, breaking the skin and blood vessels before pulling back and chewing hurriedly. It melted on her tongue, easing down her throat like ice cream. There had to be a way to satisfy the demon in her stomach. She indulged, gnawing on the bones like kebabs, nibbing on the flesh like corn. Her head was buried in plastic and limbs.

Frozen in place, he watched his beloved enjoy herself in mangled bodies. It ignited a fire in his gut that perked his attention. Such pleasure he found in feeding his dearest. She was a heart-stopper. If there were anything he could do for her, he would do it. Anything. His gaze moved down her figure. Man, she was gorgeous. The way her eyes burned whenever he arrived, the way she moved when filled with content. They were in love. Ultimately perfect. She tilted her head up for a second and he caught his favourite thing about her.

Her blood-drenched smile. So beautiful.

_A strike for his arms. Another for the legs. Split the torso in half, and hack the neck._

* * *

**A/N: So this one is slightly a whole lot darker, and shorter, and late (again). Sorry. I'll try to fix that. Hope you enjoyed otherwise!**

**Also, I'm considering doing a lemon for an upcoming chapter, but then I'd have to make this story M rated, so I'm not sure. Please tell me if you'd like me to write a lemon or not. Thanks!**


	8. Babysitter

Ayumi placed a cup of orange juice on the table, smiling mindfully at the child who sat completely absorbed in blocks and plastic figurines. His hair, chestnut, cloaked his profile. An innocent smile hovered on his lips, attention glittering over his cherished toys. The novelty items were handled with care. A soft sigh tumbled from her throat, impressed with his behaviour. Sakutaro truly was a good kid. Well, better than most three year olds.

He noticed the newly arranged drink on the table. It was a cup with patterns of trucks — the one he always drank from. Now that he thought about it, his throat was feeling dry, and the orange liquid appeared inviting. His wide eyes consciously rested on Ayumi. "For me?"

Her breath hitched when he looked at her with his tiny gunmetal blue orbs. She always found them strikingly identical to Kishinuma-san's, but with additional life. When he asked about the juice, she relaxed and cheerfully answered, "Yep! It's orange juice. When you drink it, your body becomes strong and healthy!"

His expression sparkled. If he drank it, he would be big like Papa. He stumbled as quick as his little legs would let him before kneeling at the table beside Ayumi. Sandwiching the cup with two hands, he raised it to his mouth and swigged mouthfuls at a time — that was how Papa did it. He plunked the cup on the table and exhaled loudly. Satisfied, he faced Ayumi and said, "Like Papa?"

A surge of excitement ran through her chest as she resisted squealing. Gah, he was too cute! She slightly narrowed her eyes with caution as he hurried to the table, but dispelled it as he sat down. He must've been thirsty since he drank it quickly. She noticed a trill of juice running down his chin and reached into her pocket for a tissue but froze. L-Like? Her face stormed with pink. Kishinuma-san did tease her a lot, but she felt some kind of taboo since he was four years her senior. Wait, what? She couldn't have these thoughts, especially around his son. Argh, was it really that obvious?

He furrowed his eyebrows at Ayumi. She wasn't answering him, meaning he mustn't be big enough. A frown obstructed his features as he leaned up to her. "…I not like Papa?"

Recognition clicked in her brain. Sakutaro was actually asking if he was like Kishinuma-san. Her eyes crowded with anguish when she heard the adversity in his voice. She plucked him up in her arms, composing herself. "You are." It was true. They were getting more alike by the day. She cuddled him and stroked his messy hair. "You and Kishinuma-san are very kind, always thinking about others. You are also very brave. Just like the other day when you went to the potty on your own!"

He burrowed closer to her, shutting his eyes. She smelt good, and felt notably warm. At day care, his friends always talked about their mamas. They said it felt safe whenever their mamas were around. He knew Ayumi wasn't his mama — Papa said so himself — but she seemed like it.

"Kishinuma-san cares about you so much. He works extremely hard so we can have a happy home and fill our bellies with yummy food," she assured, smiling sweetly at his restful breathing. "That's why he goes away a lot… I'm sure you'll grow up to be big and strong like him one day because he takes great care of you."

It sounded good — to be like Papa one day. He smiled, real bubbly too. Papa was always there for him, reading him bedtime stories, putting band-aids on his ouchies, calling him his most important person. He wiggled like a worm and mumbled, "I love Papa."

Her lips quivered with glee. He was absolutely adorable, especially when he squirmed in her arms and said such a sweet thing. It was getting really hard not to squeal like a fangirl. She warmly gazed down at the little boy in her lap. "And he loves you too."

"You love Papa?" he asked, meeting her eyes in regard.

She jerked, eyes wide as she gulped. Crimson painted her entire face, and she could've sworn there was steam spurting out of her ears. Kishinuma-san… She felt peaceful whenever he was nearby… What? Don't misunderstand! Get it together! She scratched the back of her head and leered at the wall as she hurriedly responded, "Y-Yeah, I do… Like family, of course!"

He snugged into her shoulder. Even though Ayumi wasn't his mama, she could still pretend. They were one… big… happy family…

Ayumi sighed as she noticed his breathing even out. He was the sweetest thing in the world. She carefully stood up with an oomph, realising he had gotten heavier since the last time she carried him. It was easy to navigate through the house, knowing it well. After opening the door to his room, she placed him on a small futon, tucked the blankets in, and kissed his forehead. She stood back and studied his sleeping face. Lips slightly parted, jumbled hair, flittering eyelids. He was a precious little angel. She tiptoed out the door, mindful of waking him up.

The front door pulled open. Yoshiki stood at the entrance, shrugging off his jacket with a lifeless face. He noticed Shinozaki in the kitchen, and from the sounds of it, she was washing some dishes. Shutting the door behind him, he trudged straight for the kettle. "Sorry, it's late. I'll walk you home."

Flinching as she heard the door, she realised Kishinuma-san was home. Her face heated. Just earlier, she admitted she loved him, didn't she? But it certainly wasn't like that! It would only confuse Sakutaro if she did otherwise. A young child wouldn't understand the concept of family love and dating love, and it wasn't time for her to explain. These things had to be discussed with Kishinuma-san — they always analysed what they'd expose him to. Ugh, her cheeks were red, weren't they? She would hate for him to see her like this, so she focused on cleaning the remaining plates in the sink, pretending she didn't notice his arrival. Her shoulders became tense when he entered the kitchen. It wasn't a big deal, but… he just got back from work, and she didn't want to bother him. "Are you sure? You must be tired." She stepped aside as he filled the kettle with water from the tap.

"I am." He couldn't lie; it was a long day at work. But after seeing Shinozaki, he felt reasonably energized. She was very hard working — juggling between schoolwork and coming here, so he couldn't make any excuses. He respected her for surviving high school, whereas he struggled and left further education. It would've been better if he stayed, but he didn't really have a choice. She got the opportunity he never had. "You can't walk alone at this hour. I'll be fine, just let me have a cup of coffee first. Want one too?"

Ah, so he was worried. "Okay…" She couldn't deny that she felt bad for making him come with her, but realised her parents wouldn't like her walking home on her own either. They trusted Kishinuma-san, although they were a little vigilant at first, it worked out in the end. At the time, he was very desperate, so she felt obligated to help him. He didn't have the greatest reputation, thoroughly known as a hopeless troublemaker. The most circulated rumours were based around how he impregnated a girl and dropped out of college, but that was stretching it. She knew he was a courageous, thoughtful man. He promised to take responsibility and raise the child properly. After his parents cut off all ties, he had no choice but to leave college and find a full time job in order to support the three of them. And then… Sakutaro's mother ran away, never to be seen again. It was probably overwhelming for her. This left Kishinuma-san as a single father, where she came in and helped with whatever she could.

He placed two mugs, filled with hot coffee, on the table and sat on the couch, patting the space next to him as an invitation. There weren't too many occasions when they were alone like this, so he wanted to take it as an opportunity to thank her. He had a major project at work, so during the past few weeks he had been getting home late. Although he didn't like to keep her waiting past due time, he was helpless, and she was his only saviour.

She happily accepted his offer, and began sipping from her cup. Her eyes fixated on the ground, not wanting to disturb him, and also… it was too distracting to look at him… she didn't want him to get the wrong idea and fire her or something. It was true that he was very different to the boys in her class, and if she had a preference, she would choose Kishinuma-san. But… she had no idea what he thought of her. She fondled with the handle of her mug until he cleared his throat.

"Shinozaki… I just wanted to, uh, thank you… for all the hard work you've done. I couldn't have asked for more. Sakutaro… he… really loves you as his babysitter, and for that I am also thankful." He shuffled his feet, beginning to feel self-conscious. It wasn't often that he voiced his feelings, but he felt like she deserved it. "I'm just… so happy to have you around. Honestly, it's so hard on my own. You were the only one who really believed in me with my situation. So… I am glad you are in my life."

Her cheeks burned as she forced herself to meet his sharp gaze. This was… unexpected of him. She always loved coming over and spending time with Sakutaro. It didn't even feel like a job. He was making her seem a lot more worthy than what she was. Red crept up her ears. It was almost hard to believe, coming from his mouth. He had a wonky smile on his face, which meant he was trying, and frankly, she found it very cute. So much that all she could do was spread the biggest smile she could muster, unable to coherently create any words among the fear of spouting out nonsense.

In response to his revelation, when her face brightened up like a goddess, he felt like he had lost the plot. He had held back for so long. There was no denying the tension between them. He was a man, and she was a woman. In the past, he told himself he wouldn't cross that border. After all, she was nearly eighteen — still in high school, while he was twenty-two, a single father, a drop out. He constantly told himself that he was no good for her. He would taint her purity. But she was so lovely, so kind and inspirational. As his son became attached to her, so did he. He started to notice the way she looked at him, how visibly flustered she got around him. She must feel it too, right? So when he lost himself in her pretty little eyes and leaned closer, he did not regret it. Sure, there was that tiny dread of rejection, but he decided it was useless. He planted a smooth kiss on her lips. He had seen them repeatedly for months, and each time he longed for them more. They felt so soft and velvety against his own. He really couldn't help himself. This was heaven.

When he pulled back, he sat in awe of the glowing face he was so familiar with.

It took three words that fell from her lips, and the two became one.

* * *

**A/N: About the last chapter, quite a few people were disturbed since it wasn't my usual fluff. The prompt for the day was ****cannibal****, and I found it difficult thinking of a fluffy AU that suited my writing and wasn't too OOC, so I just went with dark/psychotic romance. Hope that explains it. **

**Also, I might make the next chapter a lemon. Maybe.**


	9. Wrong Luggage

She took the opportunity of finding a deluxe hotel room to kick off her shoes and lurch for the queen-sized bed. The constrictions of plane-travelling mobility were horrific. She huffed into the soft fabric of her pillow and tossed the blankets to tuck herself in. The airport felt like a giant refrigerator, so this made her ultra cosy and warm. She never fancied flying much, but the chance to visit her sister outweighed it. When she started working seriously as an artist, the distance between them increased. They weren't known for separating often. So when she learned her sister was able to take a holiday break, she booked the first flight available. A train ride from her hotel to Hinoe's house took around five hours, so she was going to leave the following day. They planned to meet the day after. Excitement bubbled in her stomach at the thought.

Although rest was nagging at her, she couldn't shut her eyes without being reminded of how clammy and gross her body felt. A soothing bath sounded good right about now. Scurrying out of the bed, she pulled her blue suitcase to a clear space in the room and zipped it open. What she expected to find was her neatly packed layers of folded clothes… not to be faced with a crumpled pair of red boxers. She plummeted back, face equally matching the shade of the undergarment. This was not hers… Never in her life had she owned that article of clothing. Digging further through the luggage, she realised none of her outfits were inside. Her heart tumbled down to her stomach. Flipping the bag on its side, she observed the label.

_Name: Kishinuma Yoshiki — Phone: xxxxxxxxxx_

Shit. She must've grabbed the wrong luggage at the airport. What were the chances of having identical bags? Far out. Okay, she needed to think straight… Glancing at the analogue clock on the bedside table and from using basic mathematical skills, she calculated that she would have landed here at least 3 hours ago. She wiped her forehead, and took deep breaths to calm herself. It wasn't too late. Scrambling to retrieve the phone from her pocket, she punched in the digits and waited anxiously.

After four rings, the other end picked up. "… Hello?"

Her breath caught in her throat for a moment. The tone was deep, it was presumably a man. He sounded quite serious too. Hopefully he wouldn't be upset with her. Hinoe was waiting, so she needed her luggage by morning. She spoke with effort to calm her voice. "Um, hi. My name is Shinozaki Ayumi. Sorry, this is probably going to sound very strange, but do you happen to have a blue suitcase? Mine is missing, and I seem to be in possession of yours. It, uh, has this number on it."

"I see…" There was some shuffling. "Ah, yes. Shin-o-za-ki A-yu-mi. I just noticed your name on it. It appears that we have each other's luggage?"

"Um, yeah. Are you still near the airport? Maybe we could exchange…" She twiddled her hair. There was something unsettling about talking to a stranger, but she really needed to get her bag back. "How about you come to the hotel that I'm at?"

After discussing the details, they agreed that he would arrive there in thirty minutes by taking a taxi. He seemed like a fairly nice guy, judging by how composed he was with the situation. Honestly, she hoped it would be done and over with already. She needed that suitcase. Hinoe gave her a special charm necklace for her sixteenth birthday, and she was certain it was packed in the side compartment of that bag. A breath of air withdrew from her lips. It must have been an inconvenience for the man too. Kishinuma was his name, right? She scrolled through her phone until there was a knock on the door.

Her eyes widened slightly as she pulled the door open. It wasn't like she distinguished much from his voice, but she never expected him to be so… handsome. He looked somewhere around her own age. His bleach blond fringe gathered over his blue eyes, which seemed like metal — crude, and almost cold. Gripped in his hand was a suitcase, which she recognized as hers. She let him in, and staggered to his bag in the corner. "Well… Here it is! Thank you so much for returning mine."

"Thanks…" he uttered quietly, hovering his hand over the handle of his luggage before facing her. His voice was laced with hesitance. "Uh, you see… I have some place to be tonight, and because of this little… complication, I'm still in the same clothes I wore on the plane." He itched the side of his face. "Now, normally I'd just go back to my hotel to prepare… But this accident has diminished a lot of my time. I hope this isn't too much of a bother, but I was wondering if… You know, since my bag is here… If I could take a bath here?"

"H-Huh?" She nearly snorted blood at the question. He… he wanted to take a bath in her hotel room. Would she see his body? God, her thoughts ran wild. Ah! Stop! She was an adult! Maturity, MATURITY!

"Sorry," he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. "I can leave straight afterwards."

Zooming to the edge of her bed, she spurted, "I-It's fine… Do what you need to do." It proved difficult to look him in the eyes. How childish. Well, who could really blame her when a tall attractive man accidentally swapped luggage with her and wanted to bathe in the next room. Her ears picked up on a nearby door clicking shut. That meant… he was possibly undressing. No! Pure thoughts! She spread out on the bed, snatching her phone as a distraction.

Several minutes later, the door edged open. Steam wafted out of the bathroom. She wouldn't be surprised if all of the blood in her body suddenly rose to her cheeks in that very moment. Kishinuma stood before her. Chiseled chest, toned arms, firm abdominal muscles. He wasn't a bodybuilder, but it certainly made her blood run hot. His hair dripped over his skin. God damn… She fixed her eyes on the ground, hoping to prevent herself from further embarrassment.

"Did you look through my stuff?"

"What?" Her gaze returned to him. His face was... forcibly blank. Shit.

He folded his arms. "My stuff… It was shuffled around."

Her lips flustered. Intimidation surfaced to her mind. But… why would that even bother him? They had no choice over the change of events. She retorted, "W-Well what do you expect? I thought it was my bag!"

He shifted closer, eyes clouding up. "... You looked at my boxers, didn't you?"

Her focus faltered. Nothing popped up in her mind that would be fitting to say. She didn't want to look up at his eyes — they were far too compelling, and her heart would just not settle down. She prayed he would let it go.

"... Do you... like what you see?" he asked. She almost didn't recognize his voice, and his eyes were completely glazed over.

She kicked herself for swooning at his appearance. Of all the moments for him to be shirtless, why did it have to be now? Air swiftly filled and fled her lungs. At this point, she realised what emotion was flooding his eyes. Lust. Full blown lust. God, what a predicament she was in. But… there was not a single bone in her body that wanted him to stop his advances. From the very moment he entered her room, every thought of hers consisted of him. She was a deer that trembled in its step, and he was the lion.

"I'll take that as a yes."

The next thing she realised was him. On the bed. Straddling her. Her breath came out like a hiss as he ran his hands up and down the curves of her figure. Every touch prickled with heat. Her chest went through a constant sequence of soaring and declining as he explored the surfaces of her body. His hands glided gently, causing her heart to twinge. He was merely a stranger, but her body reacted like he wasn't. Maybe dwelling on this feeling a little longer was fine… She knew he wouldn't hurt her. He was too tender for that.

He then reached for the intimate areas, and his fingers spoke in a foreign language. It gave her chills that stabbed right into her core. Her blood pounded through her ears, matching the pace of his actions. She gawked at him and his lightly flushed face. The sound of his quickened panting pulled strings in her soul she didn't know existed. He stroked _that_ spot, causing her to whimper. "A-Ahh... Not there..."

He doused in her reception, letting the corners of his lips curl. "If you say so..." he said, breathily.

She felt him prod a finger into her most sensitive place. Her cheeks ignited. What a sneaky bastard. But, goodness, it was pleasure like no other. It brushed against the bumps of her essence. Bundles of warmth arose in her gut. He entered and left like a machine. Almost as if he could read her thoughts, he slipped in another. Fire. That's what it was. It consumed her nether regions like gasoline, feeding her with adrenaline.

Fumbling her hands with the tent in his pants, she unlocked the root of her desires. A husky groan tore from his throat. She suspended for a moment. He held her shoulders and gently rested her atop the silk pillows. Azure tresses sprawled amongst the bedding. He dipped down, tasting her lips like candy. The ache in her center swelled. She dug her nails into his shoulders, pulling him closer. Her body cried out for him. She wanted to feel his skin on hers. "Please..."

"Heh. Didn't know you were so lewd," he whispered.

She shrouded with flames, biting her lip. It couldn't be helped. He seized her face in his hand, enforcing her to meet his warm gaze. A whirlwind of affection struck her heart. He murmured sweet nothings, that she was beautiful, that he felt so alive. It was all she wanted to hear. He then filled her up, stretching out her lovely void with senseless bliss. They mewled in harmony. It was a magnificent song, ranging in high and low notes. The beat pounded in sync with their bodies and hearts.

With every thrust, she reached the cosmos. The space between her legs throbbed, extending to her entirety. He sensually pumped in and out, furiously creating friction against the walls of her tunnel. Continuously, she was hit at the core of her delicate slot. He thrashed against that spot, shooting infectious blood throughout her body. She wanted to soak all of him up. He breathed dishevelled grunts whilst she released every shriek of air that absorbed into her lungs.

He raised her leg, allowing himself to gain deeper access. Sweet juices slapped between their privates, seething into the blankets. Between rumpled hair and tousled clothes, the two grinded in unity, complementing each other with mindless shouts. Back and forth. In and out. Up and down. That was all she coherently thought about.

He leaned forward, meeting her face to face as he slammed into her tightness. His body heat radiated to her skin, bringing bumps to the surface. Her heart flailed wildly against her ribcage, setting the tempo of their love. She spilled each and every word that came to her throat. A cluster in the pit of her stomach compressed tighter each time he lavished her needy hole. It built up and up, urging her to unbind the tension.

She felt like molten lava. He began sheathing his entire length wildly, unevenly, filled with raw emotions and overwhelming neediness for exempt, pumping like a vice, an engine. She held onto that string of immense gluttony, slipping further and further down the ride until she let go. There were explosions, everywhere. Millions of tiny nerves ignited, setting off like fireworks and shooting to every end of her body. He joined her, unleashing himself to the sensation of falling. She was packed with shots of hot fluid, sending buzzes of electricity up her spine. Her chest pounded, gradually settling down.

He pulled out, tugged them underneath the covers, and wrapped his arms around the her. She relaxed her head against his chest, nudged closer, and let her eyelids flutter shut.

...

There was nothing that could ever compare to the disappointment she felt as she woke up, staring at the vacant side of her bed.

* * *

**Firstly, I'm sorry for being a day late. Too much going on. I promise I'll upload the next one in a couple hours. Nonetheless, hope you enjoyed. Could you tell it was my first lemon?**


	10. Steampunk

Standing behind the yellow line, her foot tapped repeatedly against the concrete. She retrieved her pocket watch and inspected it closely. The train was approximately three minutes late. Naho still sent her resentful looks from the last time, so it would be great if it arrived soon. Beholden to her thoughts, the bursts of afar chimneys resounded, the machine coming clear into sight. A thick cloud of ash drifted in the distance. The creases between her brows softened as the steam train hindered to a stop before her eyes. As the door jostled open, she took heed to step over the gap. Unfortunately, she misplaced her footing and snagged her shoe amongst the frills of her dress.

She grimaced, bracing for impact, but never hit the ground. Fastened around her arm was a tall man, clad in a dark uniform, golden and leather straps suspending over his body. Dull, cerulean eyes. A pair of goggles were pushed back into his blond locks. He dipped his top hat. "Sorry ma'am, are you okay?"

"Yes, thank you." She smiled warmly. What a kind bloke. Observing his attire, she noticed a brass whistle hanging from his neck. Hm. That was a strange item. Looking up to his face, she detected his eyes glancing at her chest. Her cheeks tinted with fury. A gush of air ripped from her throat. "All men are the same! No respect — the lot of you! Ugh!" And she stormed off into her carriage.

After that fateful event, every morning when she hopped on the train to get to work, she saw that little blond. He always stood outside, on the ledges, leaning over the railing. At first, she thought he was helping unsuspecting females get on the train so he could catch some images of his own fantasies. But even for her, it was unmannerly to assume. He caught the train too often for it to be leisurely. For experimental — and personal satisfaction — principles, she strayed away from her traditional carriage, lingering on his end of the train. She sat next to the closest window, hunching slightly to evade any suspicions. Her eyes narrowed as he leered from side to side before grabbing the end of his pendant and… whistling? The train rolled, beginning to pick up speed. She slowly lolled back into her seat, eyes wide and livid.

Now that it was clear he worked here, she loosened her loathing. He was only perverted. The safety of innocuous citizens was preserved, and that was all that really mattered. However, she couldn't exactly discard her watchful habits. Hmm. It wasn't hurting anyone, so what did it matter?

They were merely brief glances, but they occurred daily. She mentally giggled at the sight of him, regularly labelling him as the _cleavage-peeker _. After spotting him ardently hold the door for a mother and son, she decided he wasn't too bad. Her blood hastened at the mere thought of him. It got to the point where she involuntarily set eyes on him each time he entered her field of vision.

From time to time, he'd meet her gaze, but she'd quickly fluster and break away. His eyes saw straight through her, at her jerked shoulders, her imminent heart beat, everything. She grew comfortable with his returning ganders, gradually holding the connection for greater periods. It was their unspoken routine, holding attentive showdowns. She came to love his eyes and the ceaseless attention they gave her.

Stepping on the train one day, she felt the catch of her wrist and was pulled to an empty box between carts. And there he was. His steel blue eyes drank her presence, as did hers. These were the eyes that hindered her dreams. They whelmed with various emotions, conducting them straight to her. And then, he broke it. His lips were on hers — pushing and pulling her closer, tending to his desires. It felt like hundreds of tiny butterflies frolicked on her mouth. He tasted the meal he ordered long ago, and he certainly was starved. Her lungs burned, a wonderful sensation. The crashing of lips occupied the whole room, dismissing it, putting them in another world. It was only them.

Firmly holding her corset, he pulled back, already yearning for her silky lips once again. Her cheeks imitated roses. Forehead to forehead, they stood still. The thumping of train tracks returned to their ears. And as always, her eyes longed for his.

* * *

**I tried... Steampunk is not easy.**


	11. Wrong Number

It started with a call.

Scanning her eyes down a sheet of paper, she released a breath of air. The window was shut, blinds down. Her strokes were lethargic. Anything would be better than this. With her free hand, she cupped her face. All of a sudden, her pocket vibrated. Shovelling it out, she held it against her ear.

"Oi, did you hear what happened today at Kisaragi?" She nearly leapt out of her seat. There weren't any indicators to who it was, since most of the boys at her school had deep voices. Another factor added was the phone, which disguised and altered most tones.

Being honest, relief slipped into her system. Homework was awful. There were two approaches she could take. Serious, straight up 'what?' answers, or the wisecrack alternative — which she took. "Um... I heard that Mr. Tsubota is an official paedophile?" Slight giggle. "No, just joking. But seriously, who are you?"

He laughed. "I hate that guy... Hold on a sec. Is this the wrong number?"

"I think so," she said, a smile cracking on her lips.

"Oh shit, it is. S—"

Her eyebrows furrowed. Such vulgar words... "Don't swear."

"Huh?" Confusion smothered his voice.

Lips pursed, she retorted, "It's disgusting when people use such verminous language."

"What does that even mean?"

Her face lightened. "Verminous? It's something relating to—"

"I wasn't being serious." He deadpanned.

"But you asked!" She half-shouted.

He snorted. "What are you, some kind of encyclopaedia?"

"Shut up! You are so mean."

"Me? How come?"

Her teeth grinded. "You tried to compare me to an encyclopaedia, which I am not."

A scoff. "Oh, if you think that's bad, then you should see me at lunch."

Her eye twitched. "Okay, fine. I'll go and smack some sense into you. What class are you in?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Why not?"

"I don't want some random chick coming along and smacking me, alright?" He returned, visibly louder.

"Hey! I'm not just some random chick."

"Oh really? Then what are you?"

She straightened her back. "I'm a class representative. A lot of people respect me, obviously not you."

"Well you haven't really given me a reason to respect you."

"Of course I have!" She exclaimed.

"None that I can recall."

A pout. "Then you clearly haven't been listening."

"Oh, I hear you loud and clear," he quipped.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Anyway, you still haven't answered my question. Who are you?"

"Hmm... I don't really want to say."

"Fine. I promise I won't smack you."

He chuckled "It's not that. I'd just rather not tell you."

"Why? I haven't done anything."

"Because it's so funny."

Her eyes narrowed. "What is?"

"You. You're really amusing."

Jack slackened, she blurted, "Is that supposed to be offensive...!?"

"Take it however you want," he jested.

"What!"

There was some shuffling. "Anyway, I'm sorry to cut this call short but I've gotta go. Talk to you later, class rep."

The line dropped as she mumbled, "Bye..."

Hasting her way through worksheets, she managed to finish in record time. Cocooned amongst bed sheets, she brought her phone up to her face and texted the unknown number.

_Shinozaki Ayumi: I'm going to find out who you are eventually._

A few minutes later, it buzzed.

_Unknown number: Why are you so persistent to know?_

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Because you need to be taught a lesson._

_Unknown number: I thought you said you wouldn't hit me._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: I won't. I'm not that strong anyways._

_Unknown number: Really? Do you play any sports?_

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Does ping pong count?_

_Unknown number: I'm afraid not._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Well then there's your answer. I assume you're not a sports fanatic either._

_Unknown number: You'd be surprised._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Then surprise me._

_Unknown number: I play basketball, baseball, soccer, you know?_

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Stop boasting. Is there anything you're not good at?_

_Unknown number: Honestly, I'm shit at swimming._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: What did I say about swearing?_

_Unknown number: Jeez. You're so conservative._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: No, you're so obnoxious._

_Unknown number: Again, with the big words._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Don't you learn these things in English?_

_Unknown number: I'd need to be awake to learn._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Oh, don't tell me you're a slacker. This adds to the list of discipline I need to give you._

_Unknown number: Is spanking on that list?_

_Shinozaki Ayumi: What? Gross, no. I have just lost more respect for you._

_Unknown number: Calm down. I was joking._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: I can't tell when you're joking or not._

_Unknown number: Sometimes I can't either. I guess you'll just have to deal with it._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Sorry, I gotta go. Text you later._

* * *

They hadn't texted for a couple of days. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't think of a good starter. Because of that, when she finally got a text, relief struck her.

_Unknown number: Hey, I think I saw you today?_

_Shinozaki Ayumi: What? Are you stalking me?_

_Unknown number: Not exactly... I just saw a prude class rep and thought it might've been you._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: What are you trying to say?_

_Unknown number: You have pigtails, right?_

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Ugh, you are such a stalker._

_Unknown number: I already said I wasn't._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Whatever. Can you at least tell me what you look like?_

_Unknown number: Nah._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Really? Not even a little detail?_

_Unknown number: Nope._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: That's so unfair! You already know what I look like._

_Unknown number: Fine._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Well then?_

_Unknown number: Some people say I look scary._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: You probably are._

_Unknown number: That's not very nice for a class rep to say._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Just being honest! You swear a lot so..._

_Unknown number: Oh come on. I don't even swear that much._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: You shouldn't even swear at all._

_Unknown number: Do you want me to stop?_

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Yes._

_Unknown number: Then I won't._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Huh? Why!_

_Unknown number: Because it's cute how you get mad._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Don't call me cute!_

_Unknown number: Why not? It's a valid compliment._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Just cause..._

_Unknown number: Cause?_

_Shinozaki Ayumi: I don't know. I've never really been called it before?_

_Unknown number: I can't imagine why._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: For one, I don't talk to boys much._

_Unknown number: You're talking to me._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: You don't count since I haven't met you before._

_Unknown number: What if you have?_

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Really? When?_

_Unknown number: Haha. Why would I tell you?_

_Shinozaki Ayumi: You're awful._

_Unknown number: And you're cute._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Stop saying that._

_Unknown number: But it's the truth... And I have to go. Night._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Cya._

* * *

The next week, she decided to take initiative.

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Hi_

_Unknown number: Hey_

_Shinozaki Ayumi: When will you let me meet you face to face?_

_Unknown number: Probably never?_

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Why?_

_Unknown number:. Why do you even want to meet me?_

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Because I'd like to know who I'm texting all the time._

_Unknown number: You don't have to._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: What's up with you today?_

_Unknown number: What do you mean?_

_Shinozaki Ayumi: I don't know, you're just different._

_Unknown number: I can't really tell. If you don't want to talk to me, then stop._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: What? I do want to talk to you._

_Unknown number: You shouldn't_

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Why not?_

_Unknown number: Firstly, you complain how I'm mean, or how I swear too much. I don't understand why you even text me anymore._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Can't I do what I want? Of course I don't like it how you swear or when you get mean, but that doesn't mean I don't like chatting with you. What brought this up anyway?_

_Unknown number: If you don't like that part of me, then you wouldn't want to meet me in real life._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Come on. You can't be that bad._

_Unknown number: I am. You're some goody-good class rep while I'm lower than dirt. See? We aren't meant to talk to each other._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: I'm not some kind of prissy bitch. How could you think that?_

_Unknown number: Just listen to me. I think we should stop talking._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Why? I don't want to stop._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Are you serious? I liked talking to you. Don't you understand that?_

_Shinozaki Ayumi: You're not garbage. I know you're a nice person at heart._

_Shinozaki Ayumi: Fine, be that way._

Over the course of several days, she had bombarded him with messages, even tried calling him. God, he was too moody. What was she supposed to do? Perhaps it would be better to just let it go. They didn't know much about each other anyway, and they only talked on accident. Although, it was still upsetting, she had gotten so worked up only to be let down.

* * *

The sun was setting. On her desk rested two piles of paper. One stapled, other not. The grooves of her hand were aching. Exhaling, she sped up the process. Once she was finished, she could go home. She had to fulfil her class representative duties.

Unexpectedly, the pocket of her skirt oscillated. Pulling it out, she realised it was him. The unknown number. Though slightly hesitant, she accepted the call. She held her breath, waiting for an explanation — for a reason why he suddenly stopped their conversations. What he said nearly drew all the air out from her lungs.

"Sorry. Look up."

She did, though she was the only one in the classroom, and there were no visible changes. That was until the door slid open, revealing a tall boy. Senior uniform, bleach blond hair, strong eyes, heaving chest… and a phone against his ear.

It started with a call.

* * *

**Less detail, more conversation. Hope you enjoyed. Please review!**


	12. Serial Killer

They way people sleep around others showed a lot about what they thought of them. Say for instance, enemies would face backs, strangers would create distance, and friends would front each other. For him, it was no different. How he slept with her corresponded with his behavioural habits.

He kept one arm slid around her waist. It firmly held her in place, refusing to let go. In the back of his mind, the fear lingered that perhaps one day she'd skim away, pack her clothes, and leave a letter on his counter. She'd want more trust, but to him, it proved the extent of his passion. He wanted to shield her. With just about anything, he'd protect her. If he could carry the weight of her burdens, he would — without question. But he knew pain in this world was imminent. He couldn't save her from everything.

His eyes split open to a thud. It could have very well been his imagination, but something like this didn't normally wake him up. He glanced around the room, the darkness an obvious hindrance, and induced breath through his teeth. Ayumi stirred in his embrace. Although responsible for severing her sleep, the unnerving feeling that invaded his body overtook it.

Her mind returned to consciousness as the pair of arms around her tensed. From the dim shadow she saw behind her eyelids, it was probably still dark outside. A groan shook from her throat. Peeling her eyes open, she noticed Yoshiki, his limbs stiff. She sat up on her elbows, and softly asked, "What's the matter?"

"Stay here," he mumbled, visibly drowsy. Cool breeze prickled the hair on his legs as he slipped out of the covers. Once leaving the warmth and safety of his bed, the vigour in the atmosphere was blatant. His feet curled with each step over the chilly floorboards. Quietly ducking out of the room, he stalked down the halls, through the living room. As he progressed, the air became thicker to swallow. His heart lurched when the floor creaked behind him.

Eyes emerged from the shadows. Dull, glaring eyes. Catching a gleam of silver, he flinched. It took a moment for him to realise — for him to blink, to see the eyes inching closer. And with that, he toppled away. Curses fled his lips like air. He never remembered the stairs being this long. "Ayumi!" Everything pounded in his ears. Suddenly, something swept his ankles, and pinned him to the wall. Death winked before his eyes. The blade glinted as it moved, raising and hurling down. In the split of a second, he shifted, yelping as it bit into his shoulder. Trembling as it hoisted up again, he leapt out of all constraints.

Must protect her… Ayumi… Must save her… It repeated in his mind like a mantra. Although his shoulder stung like hell, pain shooting through his arms and neck, almost as if the blade was still inside, he couldn't let it bother him. If anything, he had to protect his wife. He clutched the source of his agony, letting warm fluids weave through his fingers. Pushing from the pit of his stomach, he yelled, "AYUMI! GET OUT NOW!" Time slowed down. Everything was precise around him. It would take eternity for him to reach the bedroom. But no matter what, he had to make sure Ayumi was okay.

She was his first love. He chased after her for… four years? It seemed pathetic at the time, but it was all worth it. Emotions weren't something he broadcasted to the world, so he didn't blame her for not realising it until he made it blatantly obvious. He would never forget it; the night they confessed. Nothing could compare to the happiness and shock that blew his system over the moment she returned his affection, equally as flustered as him. She was something different. She was the only girl that managed to turn his life around, calm him down at the second, and make him feel like the luckiest man on earth. Life wasn't fair, he didn't deserve someone wonderful like her, but she ended up with him, and no matter how many times he apologised for tarnishing her reputation, she loved him with all her heart. There was no way he could let her go. He promised to protect her with the extent of his might. All the nights they made love, talked for hours on end, spilled each and every emotion, could not go to waste. She gave him a reason. To breath? To work? To serve? It didn't matter. She gave him everything. And for that, he would do anything for her.

He wanted to reach her, to protect her, to love her. But perhaps, he wasn't strong enough. Not enough of a man. A cold, solid object pierced into his back, hurling spasms throughout his back, and stinging discomfort in his lungs. Knots raised up his throat, coughing out in crimson. He roared like a king of the jungle, collapsing to the group, arms outstretched. "GET THE FUCK OUT! AYUMI! RUN AWAY!" His entire body convulsed in torture, brain racking, back pounding, chest straining. It felt like blood… Surely it was blood… It seeped down his sides, quite tepid compared to the burning sensation on his skin.

The stranger cackled, his gravely voice ringing down the halls. It made him sick. He couldn't protect Ayumi because of this fucking monster. He couldn't do anything. Even when the bedroom door ripped open, all he could do was topple in his own misery. Hot, salty liquid streamed down his cheeks. He loved her so much, yet he could only listen as the situation played out. His eyelids became heavy. He fought to keep them open, to stay awake, to do something. But as they fluttered shut, as his consciousness faded away, he could only wince, hearing her struggling.

The last thing that repeated in his mind before he wallowed into a pitiful death was the high-pitched screams of his one and only love. The woman he failed to protect.


	13. Mermaid

He had a fancy house. Sure, the memories in it were not great, but he could lie down and stuff his face in there without an issue. Despite that, he could not call it home. That label was reserved for another place. It was not too far away, maybe twenty minutes on feet, but time did not matter. His friends often spent time there with him, amazed at his skills. He did not like to brag, but realistically, he was the best in town. It was not surprising, considering how much time he spent there. His parents got to the point where they gave up asking where he went whenever he got home because the answer was always monotonous. He had quite the reputation for it too. Perhaps the bleached hair gave it away… But he let them run their mouths.

He loved dipping his toes in the luminous water. The way it ran down his skin was refreshing. As he delved further, his mind became as clear as the ocean. Sinking his hands deep, he sliced through oncoming waves. A stream of ardour glimmered in his eyes at the sight of a fine swell. Set on his target, he popped up, balancing his structure and slackening his arms in the air. Beads of salt water pelted on his growing cheeks. He chuckled, soaring across the curl with bright eyes. In those very moments, he felt alive. Nothing could compare to it. They called him a _natural_, for he never faced problems with the sport.

That was until one fateful afternoon. Maybe it was a rough day — a mixture of teach and parent lectures, but his brain felt cloudy and the only answer was the beach. As he approached the shore, the only sounds in his ears were the rough crashing of waves. Thick borders of foam outlined the sea. Clouds besieged the sky in dark armies. The strong yanks swirling the current should have been a distinct signal to turn around, but his judgement was foggy and all he could think about was a release. Soon after plunging in the chilliness and struggling against the tide, he became overwhelmed by a giant wave, probably about seven metres high. Without giving him a chance to calculate the situation, it smashed atop him.

Water plundered his nostrils, tossing him around like a rag doll. He was at war with the current, clearly on the losing end. It vigorously threw his limbs around, thrashing his head around, pulling his lips open and gushing into his lungs. Tight chested, he could only evaluate his choices. Life was not all that great anyway. Perhaps it was for the best. At least he went out in a fashionable sense. A pathetic huff bubbled from his mouth before he went limp.

* * *

Warmth buzzed on his skin. Wasn't he dead? It seemed like he was a goner. Air briskly exchanged between his lips. He thickly inhaled, halting at the block of something lodged in his throat. Heaving his stomach, he coughed out, the walls of his throat stinging as warm fluids expelled. It took a couple efforts to finally get it out of his system. Twitching his eyes open, he familiarized himself with his surroundings. Moist sand, shattering waves — he was still at the beach. Scanning along the coast, his eyes grew wide at the sight to his right.

It was a girl, but not just any girl. Her hair drizzled down her back, and draped over her, um, chest lumps. It covered any… intimate areas… but he still made note to avoid it. However, that was not the worst of it. Legs were nowhere to be found, and in its place was a tail. A fish tail. He blinked. From the waist down, she was a marine animal. Carefully finding his voice, he murmured, "Is this… real life?"

"Mhmm…"

He jerked. A string of pain travelled down his chest, causing him to pant out. This had to be a joke. He must have banged his head against a rock while he went under; it made sense for his pounding temples. "Huh… Are you— am I seeing things?"

She tilted head slightly, squinting her dark blue eyes. "Um… Yeah? Did you think you were blind?"

It became significantly harder to draw breath through his lips. This whole situation was not helping the throb in his brain. She seemed so realistic, but his mind was definitely playing tricks. For something like this to happen… Ugh, it was impossible. Everyone knew these creatures were nothing but myths. All they were good for was folk stories and movies to entertain children. But no matter how many times he tried to drill it in his head, he could not get over how real she looked. "No, uh. You're… not real, are you? You couldn't be a—"

"Mermaid." She interrupted, propping herself up on her shoulders as if she was relaxing beside him. Her hair matched the shade of her eyes, glistening in the sunlight. "That's what I am. Why do you ask?"

"What. This is… This is so fucked up." His jaw slumped open before he quickly shook his head. She was practically claiming his delusion. All logic had been thrown out of the equation. Still, be couldn't bring himself to believe that the sight before his eyes was real.

Her small hands reached to brush the side of her tail. It shimmered with hundreds of little hexagons. The scales were painted in various hues of cyan. "Why would it be?" She furrowed her eyebrows slightly.

"You don't exist! Mermaids don't exist!" he exclaimed, frustration sketched on his face. Maybe blurting it out would destroy the charade. It felt almost sickening to be able to imagine this. He could not deny that she was beautiful either, but would not let himself fall into a spiral of disappointment the moment he snapped out of it. Empty promises were always horrible.

Her eyes shifted down, spirit dwindled from his sudden outburst. She pursed her lips, and softly said, "That's kinda harsh… I _am_ right in front of you."

He could not get a grasp on what was going on. Even if the answers were hanging right between his eyes, he could not raise his fingers. Something in the pit of his stomach held him back — probably his sanity, but the lines were so thin that he was millimetres away from snapping. "I must be dreaming. God damnit, somebody pinch me." It should not have surprised him as much as it did. He flung back at the pang of two damp fingers squeezing the skin of his cheek, staring at her with moon-sized eyes and a hanging jaw. "Holy shit. I wasn— never mind that, you're fucking real!"

"Yeah… Is it that hard to believe?" Wrinkles grouped between her brows as she retracted her arm.

"Are you serious? You have a fucking tail." Why was she looking at him as if _he_ was the one with a severe problem? God, the world was working against him. Telling anyone about this encounter would lead him to a visit at the closest mental asylum. It would not be hard to accept his madness; after all, he did spend a mass of his time at the ocean.

She glanced at her lower body before returning to him, an impassive glint in her eyes. "Your point is?"

"Ugh!" He smacked his forehead. Nothing made sense. Maybe he would have been better off lost at sea. Speaking of which, since he was going crazy anyway, he figured the weird fish-girl would have something to do with his whereabouts. His dignity was practically clawing at his skin for falling into the abyss of illusion. Hand slightly covering his face, as if it would shield his pride, he grumbled, "Can you just tell me what happened?"

Sending him a peculiar look, she released a breath of air. Turmoil slowly crept away from her expression. She leaned back, scattering her mind in the clouds as she explained, "Well… I saw you floating around, and I couldn't just leave you there."

Anticipating an answer, he fixed his eyes on her as she relaxed. Judging from her movements and visage, she really did replicate a human being, save for the nudity and tail. He almost froze on the spot. It sounded like… No, he had to be hearing things. Yet curiosity had a hold on him. "Floating around…?"

Maintaining her gaze on the sky, she continued, "Mm… You looked a bit blue, aside from the water. Had to pull some of my tears out. Ugh, and I was saving them too…" Her jaw tightened, making her look genuinely upset.

"What…" Everything was confusing. He tried to piece things together but it would not add up. This was all the more reason to simply run away and forget an explanation, but… ah, who knows? Maybe the hysteria had already caught up with him. "You were crying?"

"No… Why would I?" She narrowed her eyes.

This chick was probably as mental as him. Throwing statements here and there to end up denying them. It made him wonder why he even bothered with women. Continuing from then on seemed absurd, but what did it matter? "What else would you mean by tears?"

She raised a brow. "Tears. You know, little sparkly drops that grant breath?" Exhaling, she turned away and muttered, "Humans are so helpless…"

Calculating anything seemed useless at this point, but so was he, and delusion was beginning to make sense. Mermaid terminology wasn't well known with him. Even regular terminology struggled to add up. However, if he looked at the big picture — well, more like squinted at it, he could pick out a context. "Does that mean… you saved my life?"

She consciously stroked her chin, focusing on the grains of sand at her elbows. "Is that what it's called? Oh, yeah, I suppose." Looking up, she threw a wacky grin at him.

"O…kay… Wow." His eyes were lost in the calm swells of the ocean. At this stage, accepting her supposed reality felt like the reasonable choice. "W-Well… Thanks, I guess…"

Gazing at him thoughtfully, she asked, "Hmm… Do you have a name?"

He flinched, but only the slightest bit. For a second, he mistook her for an actual girl. "… Yeah, uh, it's Yoshiki." Her eyes on him delivered an uneasy feeling to his stomach that he could not quite distinguish.

"Oh. That's nice."

"Er…" He scratched the back of his neck, pulling himself away from her capturing watch. It was… slightly uncomforting. She was really making him nuts. "What's yours?"

"Don't have one. Pretty useless in the Atlantic world." Air withdrew from her lips as she closed her eyes, almost looking sullen.

"Huh? Then what do you call each other?" It was funny that he felt himself believe the whole situation. Mermaids, Atlantic worlds — he was actually considering it. He couldn't deny it, because she was talking evidence. She was right there. Right in front of him.

"Nothing." She paused, seemingly rushing through thoughts. "We don't talk like humans do."

He furrowed his eyebrows. That was the roadblock in his epiphany. "The hell… But how can you speak to me?"

"I'm not telling you…" Her tongue poked out between her lips. A glow of amusement ran through her eyes before falling, leaving nothing but dullness. "Besides, I have to leave. Maybe we'll meet again someday…"

"Wait, what?" She was moving too fast for him to process. Was she just going to flash into his life to flash out? Could he tell whether this was a dream or not in the future? A mixture of emotions stirred in his mind; anger, confusion, and some he could not pick out.

"Goodbye, Yoshiki…" she murmured, leaning down with her soft navy eyes.

As she dipped in, he regretted it. Completely. There was not even a plausible reason for it. He just did. He regretted how he shut his eyes, letting her plant a moist kiss on his glowing cheek. He regretted how he relished it, shakily drawing out breaths, getting a kick out of her soft lips.

He regretted how he pathetically split his eyes open, expecting her to still be in front of him, only to be met with the hushed crashes of ocean waves.


	14. Airplane

Yoshiki didn't travel on the plane often. But when he did, he made sure to make it amusing. Typically, his flights were overnight trips, which meant he was stuck with either a snoring old fart or an obnoxious young lady. Since they managed to snatch away his peace of mind, he decided it was only fair to return the favour. And by favour he meant sharpies — permanent markers right to the face. The perfect revenge.

By god, it was hilarious. Others would quickly catch on to the situation, stifling laughs and sending strange looks at the significant person. He felt glad, as if he was bringing the community together with strings of inside jokes. Not once did he experience guilt. Attitudes had really degraded nowadays, so they all deserved it. He was only having a little fun. They never figured it out. He assumed they discovered the distraught the moment they got home, or found a mirror. But luckily, he'd be long gone by then.

However, one seating partner did happen to surprise him on a momentous account. Not only did she manage to backchat a repulsive flight attendant, thoroughly earning a laugh on his side, but she also maintained a pleasant sleeping arrangement… or so he thought. At some point during the flight, perhaps in turbulence, she jolted in her seat, landing her cheek on his shoulder. And that's where it stayed.

Now, the decision was tempting. Would he graffiti her face as always — or take a delicate approach? After all, she wasn't much a bother on this trip. He could even say she was a delight to sit next to, because she definitely was a sight for sore eyes. While she slept, he admired her pretty little features; petite face, plump lips, thick lashes, button nose. And for the very first time, he decided he might feel the slightest bit guilty for marking someone's face… But he couldn't simply break his record.

After brainstorming a handful of ideas, he gently dug a sharpie from his pocket and wrote on the side of her face delicately, wary for any signs of consciousness. He leaned back, proud of his work, and drifted off to sleep. It was a good flight.

* * *

Bending closer to her mirror, Ayumi released a heavy sigh. There was no indication towards why or when, but it had certainly happened. At least it was an explanation for the countless eyes burning into the back of her head while she left the airport. She swiftly smacked a palm to her face. This was so embarrassing. People probably thought she was some kind of walking advertisement. How did this even happen? Curiosity snatched her up like a hungry hippo, and there was only one way to find out.

She huffed and reached for her bag, determined to contact whoever's phone number was printed on her cheek.

* * *

**A/N: So short, so late, so sorry. I'm skipping the Hogwarts AU because honestly... I've never read or watched the series. But thankfully, I should be up to date with the prompts as soon as I upload the next chapter in a couple hours. About lagging behind on schedule... there's just some life stuff going on, but it'll be fine. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed.**


	15. Elementary School

Children flew out the front doors like wild mice, wailing for the comfort of loved ones. Inside stayed Kishinuma Yoshiki, who glared through the window with envy. He did not have parents to come pick him up, so there was no need for him to barge out with the crowd. The teachers, although raising brows at his recklessness, understood his predicament and allowed him to wait in the classroom until he was comfortable with walking home. It wasn't a big deal considering they remained in the school for extra hours. He typically wandered along the sidelines, reclusive from anyone's business.

When he decided the main yard was clear enough for him to make his leave, he slipped out the door. Not a word fell from his mouth. They would just judge him, and he wanted to save himself from the trauma. Hands dug into his tiny pockets, he scuffed to the gate, watching the dirt clouds kick up at his feet.

Shock rose to his face when a sudden cry sprung to his ears.

Eyeing the source, his expression immediately softened. It was Shinozaki Ayumi. She was crouched on the ground, with tousled dark pigtails and broad watery eyes. Her body shuddered, teardrops staining the dirt below. Normally, he would pin her cuteness, get slightly nervous and walk away. But since she was in such a troubled state, he decided to intervene.

"Sh-Shinozaki… What's the matter?" he asked, moving next to her with furrowed brows. A frown did not suit her face, and tears made her look awful. It gave him this strange heaviness in his chest, tugging at the strings of his heart.

She glanced up at him for a second, revealing the catastrophe of her gloom — red puffy eyelids and a runny nose. Life was not sailing smoothly. At the sight of Kishinuma, she narrowed her eyes, having not forgiven him for yelling at her friend the other day. There was no reason for her to speak to a big meany. Shunning him away, she forced between sniffles, "Go away, Kishinuma!"

It wasn't a surprise. Not from her, not from anyone. Although, it irritated him slightly because he only acted out of good will. Why couldn't she accept her help? She was too stubborn, and well, so was he. Therefore, he plotted a means to console her. In his train of thought, his eyes fell upon the fabric of her panties. The way she was huddled gave the perfect view beneath her skirt. His cheeks heated up. Shifting slightly, he attempted to conceal his blush with a hand and mumbled, "Um… I can see up your…"

"Huh?" He looked strange. Well, stranger than usual. She followed his line of sight before shrieking. "Eek! Why are you looking! So weird!"

Her response caused him to shift further, anxiously scratching his forehead. Girls were hard to understand. She would get far more upset if he didn't point it out. Besides, he couldn't just stand and watch as she exposed her underwear. Even he had more respect for that, respect for her. "Sorry…" And again, his heart twinged, triggering him to advance. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Peering up at him, she processed his words. At his arrival, her problems had drifted to the back of her mind, but bringing up the subject surfaced the issue once more, making her burst into a new wave of emotions, shaking her head and constantly rubbing her face for overflowing tears. A combination of hiccups and wails gushed from her mouth. "They're not here!" She transitioned into a wheezing fit, choking out words between breaths. "Mummy… and Daddy were… shouting this morning… And n-n-now they're… they're not here…!"

He grimaced, forgetting what to do when someone hyperventilated. Surely she would complain if he dared to touch her, so he stood his ground. Now that contact was out of the question, he was left with words — his worst enemy. Taking a deep suck of air, he tentatively spoke, "Hey, look on the bright side… You can go to the park whenever you want now."

"You don't get it!" she blabbed. Mummy… Daddy… Why did everyone have to yell so much? It always made them angry, and whenever they were angry, home was never a happy place. This was so upsetting. She shakily drew out breaths, clutching the sides of her forehead.

He really was no good after all. How could he understand her? He never did. His only strong point was making problems worse. "S-Sorry…" The sick feeling in his stomach beckoned him to keep trying, to stop her waterworks, but he was useless.

She glanced at him. Was he making fun of her? It seemed practical. Why else would he stay? Temper flashed in her eyes. It would be better if he were someone else — someone who could distract her from grief. But no, everything went wrong and she was stuck with him. "I wish Mochida were here…"

His breath hitched in his throat. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. Not only did it bring a strike to his heart and pride, but it strengthened his flames towards Satoshi. He tightened his fists, biting back tempting monstrosities. He carried mixed feelings for the brown-haired boy, one of which was jealousy. Of course they were friends — friends that would never betray another, but he also loathed comparisons between the two. Especially coming from Shinozaki, the girl he gained a soft spot for. In this situation, there wasn't much he could do. There were no variations provided his presence. She would be happier without him. So as a parting gift, he delved into his pocket and retrieved a lollipop. "Here."

She ceased her sobbing, cautiously staring at his extended hand. "What's that?"

"Just take it," he said with an even tone, restraining his previous frustration. This was his last effort, because cheering her up seemed impossible at this point. Besides, he wasn't much of a sweet tooth, and usually didn't eat candy offered from teachers.

Her eyes focused on the plastic-wrapped candy, consideration flickering in her mind. Strawberry flavour… She glanced between the lollipop and him with sparkling blue orbs. He edged closer, physically insisting her to take it. So she did, ripping it open like lightning. Her face relaxed as she popped it in her mouth.

He backed away, satisfaction bubbling in his chest. Dropping the frown off her face was enough for him. Gazing thoughtfully at Shinozaki, he grew a little smile. "I'm going now."

"Wait." In a split second, she shot up and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. "Byebye Kishinuma!"

Wide eyed, he hobbled away, cradling the side of his glowing face with a goofy smile.


	16. 1800s

Shinozaki Ayumi had a range of habits, such as trudging to the town well and tending the maize — she had a knack for bargaining too. The local people enjoyed her neat conversations. Some could even say she got along with adults better than those her own age. Her father pulled her under his wing, educating her from the safety of their own home. She learned proper etiquette, cleaning, cooking, sewing. Life was vast. However, there lived one tradition she detested.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Every morning at nine o'clock, a boy stood behind her door, calm smirk and hopeful eyes. He consistently asked the same thing, which she always denied.

"Hello Ayumi. Will you go on a date with me to the pond?"

It frightened her. They weren't acquainted, nor had they spoken, yet he arrived daily. The visits normally ended with the door slammed to his face. Trusting her father's advice, she responded with blunt, one-word answers, claiming that he'll soon grow tired and throw in the towel. As much as she'd like to believe that, the spirit never fell from his eyes. He looked at her as if she were a piece of treasure. Those large eyes stole the breath from her lungs, but she was too caught up in fear to dwell in the pleasantries. It seemed like he was wasting his time, which she could not condone. He might as well do something better than pester her front door. In her household, time was of the essence. This was echoed from her mother and father.

One thing badgered the back of her mind. What if he never gave up? What if he continued until the day she said yes? He stood capable of it. It wouldn't be a cheerful experience for the two of them — she prayed that it wouldn't be the case. Through hours of tutoring and routine chores, she barely maintained her vegetable patch. There was no time to spare, much less go on dates. Not that she understood a lot about him in the first place.

From his countless drop ins, she knew he was confident, persistent, stubborn, and as much as she hated to admit, hard working. There had to be a strong work ethic in his brain for him to persevere for this long. Although, it would have been more useful if he put it to something other than chasing girls. But no matter how many times she put him down, his smirk never faltered, the glisten in his eyes never diminished. A regular person would be disheartened by the amount of rejections, but he seemed all the more motivated.

While it was increasingly annoying, she couldn't help but start to grow interest — though it was unlike the kind he pursued. She wanted reasons. It flowed through her mind during the majority of nights. When he visited the next day, as expected, she decided to change it up a little bit.

"Why do you bother with me?"

For the first time, she saw the slightest change in his expression. Widened eyes. She hadn't really given him a reaction other than a curt decline, so it was probably unanticipated. He paused for a while, sinking deeper in her response. His steel blue eyes were sealed tight on her, as if he was experiencing some kind of malfunction. Maybe the question put him out of his place; like his answer was lost in a mixture of unsaid words. He stood there, searching, searching, searching, and it felt like an eternity before he relaxed and answered.

"I think you are very beautiful."

And she slammed the door without a second thought — even surprising herself. Was it out of habit? Shock? She thumped her head against the wooden frame of her shut door. If he showed emotions, he'd probably look very confused. But that was okay, because she was too. Although, it wasn't enough to blame her overwhelm of feelings, so what was it? Her hand lifted to cover her mouth, warmth flooding to her face… No man had ever called her beautiful before.

It affected her more than she would like to admit. That night, her covers weren't as comfortable as remembered — a blender of twisting and turning. Why… Why did he do this to her? A handful of words were all it took to break her. Was… she really broken? Everything seemed quite irrational; the functionality of her brain, the shortness of her breath. Her body was a garden, and her chest bloomed.

The following day was an effort to hide her swayed presence of mind. Walking to the front door, her heart beat matched her footsteps. Wind rushed into the house, knocking all the air from her lungs. Swallowing thickly, she watched as he poured his voice out.

Unforgetting his previous declaration, she decided to tug on it. "You know… There are many other beautiful girls in the neighbourhood."

He mirrored the same expression as before, although melting in a shorter time. His answer was like a closed fist — hammering her stomach and releasing a myriad of butterflies, almost like getting winded.

"I know, but I only want you."

Taking up his offer didn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.


	17. Author's Note

**A/N: For anyone that was expecting a new chapter, I'm sorry.**

**My first intentions were to finish this story according to the Corpse Party AU Fest, which is a new chapter each day related to the prompt given for 31 days. It was fine at first — however, it became more time consuming and required more and more thought. I was literally losing sleep over it, staying up late and waking up early to finish them. This quickly stumped my performance at school, and the lack of sleep plus forced behaviours made me lose my motivation. **

**I'm sorry for those who enjoyed this series, but I feel like it was for the best to stop. Health is most important, right?**

**I cannot thank you guys enough for all the reviews and kind words you've given me. I love it so so so much, and I promise I will keep writing Corpse Party fanfictions — just not daily. I'll probably start a new series, or continue ****_More Than Friends_****. **

**The main purpose of this update is to ask if I should write a continuation of a one shot.**

**So if anyone would like me to develop ANY of these one shots into a full-length story, please review. I always read them. If enough people are excited about a certain one shot, then I definitely will write it.**

**If you've read up to this, or even bothered reading the update, I hope you understand. Thank you so much to all the people who have read and supported this set of one shots. I love you guys.**


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